


The Bait

by XLNozes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Asphyxiation, Consensual, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Geographical Isolation, Magical Bond, Porn With Plot, Sex Magic, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-04 23:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17313545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XLNozes/pseuds/XLNozes
Summary: "'Temptation, lust, desire... something like that?', he instigated her. Hermione continued to nod, his scent urging her to throw herself into his arms, demanding very dirty things from him."In which sex is a kind of weapon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Writing in another language is pretty confusing - especially if you learned it from watching tv shows and playing video games.  
> So, please, bear it with me while I practice.

The girl lying on the floor of the house squirmed in front of the flash of light coming towards her. She bent, pulling her back from the floor, her limbs stiff and her eyes open, almost terrified.  
"Will this work?", a man asked watching the scene. The girl's body convulsed and laid, motionless, on the floor. A pink mist circled her and the girl sucked in breaths as if she was suffocating.  
"Let's hope so," said a second, older, male voice. "This is our last alternative."  
"Everything's ready?", he asked, looking suspiciously at the limp body in the middle of the room.  
"It's all we could do. The rest is her responsibility."  
The mist faded gradually, completely inspired by the young woman as the two men watched her.

-

She moved slowly, feeling the sand from the ground pressed against her right cheek. Her eyelids lifted and the world began to spin. She blinked once, then twice, three times, trying to get things into focus. The green mass on the extreme left side took shape until it turned into treetops, the brown just below was distinguished in trunks. Hermione Granger doubled over, feeling her abdomen burn in a strange pain to her - as if it did not really hurt her. With one hand resting against the nearby trees, she rose to her feet, her knees trembling, insisting for her to stay on the ground. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus her mind on what she needed to do. A hand touched her right temple as she struggled to organize her own thoughts. It was not common to see Miss Granger unable to distinguish a line of thought. She took a deep breath and, in the fog that covered her mind, she could find what they had been insistently saying.  
She had to find the Dark Lord, Voldemort. She had to find him soon.  
Her legs were trembling, and her footsteps were almost desperate as she crawled into the woods.  
The plan did not seem particularly bad, she just wasn't too happy to have been chosen as the bait. She suppressed a groan, her hand fisting the cloth over her belly. The girl took a deep breath twice before finding the strength to go roaming. The Dark Lord should be around here somewhere. She just needed to find him and everything would go its way. She just needed to find him...  
She swallowed a sob. She did not know how long she had wandered through the trees, seeking him, but he should have appeared by now. He should have followed her scent, found her.  
She fell back against the trunk, cowering between the roots. Her legs were sore and the heat that covered her belly was enough to make her skin itch. She slipped a hand through her hair, getting frustrated with herself as her fingers clutched at the knots. Maybe... Maybe she should look for a river. Yeah, a river. There she could get rid of the heat that consumed her, which prevented her from thinking rationally. She rose, trembling, and strained her ears to the sound of water. She heard nothing that could guide her. In fact, she heard nothing but the anguished groans within her own head. A sob escaped her and Hermione raised a hand to her forehead, feeling feverish. Her skin was beginning to accumulate sweat and the urge to rub against her thighs increased every moment.  
She took a hesitant step, her knees weakening at the weight. She wouldn't... she knew she wouldn't make it. Her fingerprints clawed against the bark of a tree as she sought something to keep her on her feet. Her body fell dead on the floor as the world spun. The girl took a deep breath, but the air seemed to keep her lungs empty and to dry her tongue. She wanted to... She exhaled, shrinking, her fingers pressing the skin on her belly. The vision dimmed gradually, the edges turning gray, evolving into black, and then Hermione lost consciousness.

-

There was something cool and wet on her forehead, and the girl let out a sigh of eagerness, almost relieved. Her spine curved, pulling her body away from the floor, and her knuckles turned white as she closed her hands, her knees brushing against each other. "Awake?", came a definitely masculine voice over her.  
She bit her lip to hold a moan and control the urge to jump on anyone else. Hermione raised her eyelids slowly and found a pair of green eyes so deep that the air in her lungs died out. His scent began to make a winding path into her nostrils, a musky mixture of wood and rain. The two emeralds have moved away, and the girl could see him better - the aristocratic nose crowned by a pair of round glasses, square and firm jaw, lips darker than skin, thick eyebrows, black hair on the top of his head.  
Merlin, she was in trouble.  
This was definitely not the Dark Lord and she was really in trouble.  
Whatever they had done to her had put her hormones into a frenzy and the only coherent thought that could make the way through her hazy mind to their consciousness was that he was not the right man.  
"Are you better?", he asked in a baritone voice that made her body tighten.  
The male hand slowly climbed toward the towel in front of her, however, in the desperation not to make it possible to destroy the mission, Hermione struggled back, ignoring the way her skin crawled over the leaves and branches.  
"Miss?", he asked uncertainly, his hand curling.  
"Just do not touch me. Do... do not touch me", she murmured, her eyes tightly shut, as she tried to rise. She staggered back, her shoulder slapping against a nearby tree and avoiding a fall.  
"You shouldn't be standing", he stood up as well, but kept the distance she insisted on imposing.  
"I should go," the girl stammered, moving around the tree. Soon she was moving forward, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other.  
"You don't look well", he argued, following her from afar.  
Hermione shook her head, persuading herself to move away from him as fast as her uncoordinated legs allowed. His scent drew her closer and her hormones demanded that she respond to the request. She wanted so bad to grab him and do things that would make her neighbors scandalized.  
"Leave me alone!", the girl breathed. Sweat poured from her forehead to her chin and the idea of throwing it all away and ignoring her responsibilities seemed more and more tempting.  
She was only able to relax when she stopped hearing the footsteps behind her.

-

Her legs failed and the girl fell hard on the floor, her knees sore and scratched. Merlin, she could not stand it any longer. If she did not find him, she would soon have to take the problem into my own hands. She was a modern girl - she could do that. The taste of blood danced on her tongue, the result of biting her lip so hard. She kept on crawling. There was no guarantee that the pressure she felt within herself would not worsen after what she was considering doing. She needed a river. A very cold river.  
Her body spasmed and the girl found herself pressed against the half-rotted leaves, her arms wrapped around her belly. Oh, Merlin. Just... Just... Her right hand drifted over her tight, her mind filled with images of the dark-haired man who had tried to help her. She almost regretted letting him go. Her fingers gripped the hem of her skirt and began to pull it up. She just needed... She shook her head. No, that was not the point. What she really needed was to find the Dark Lord, period.  
Her body tightened and she let a whimper escape. It was time for Plan B, the river. She lowered her eyelids and tried to concentrate on the sound of the water. She was surprised to realize that she could actually hear it. She must have been so distracted by her own perverted thoughts that she hadn't noticed before.  
She crawled, stumbling, toward the source of the sound, falling into the water without worrying about clothes or temperature. The cold covered her sweaty skin, refreshing her mind and putting her thoughts in order - the heat in her belly just a memory. She laid down, floating with the current.  
She did not believe that she had spent so many hours wandering without finding the Dark Lord. The forest was his territory, right? Hence he attacked the villagers who insisted into entering the woods - arresting them or killing them. The forces that had been sent to get rid of him had failed - he was a wizard who refused to follow the laws of men. That's why they needed to destroy him.  
She almost felt like a bitch with the plan the elders and counselors had drawn up.  
It was nothing more than a couple of spells thought out by the village advisors - the few men who were born with the gift of magic - that should make any living thing with a Y chromosome want to bed her (well, it could be over a table or against a wall, she supposed). So far the plan did not seem particularly ingenious. However, they had cast a spell that should bind her life to the life of the first man to accept her, making them dependent on each other.  
The final part of the plan involved her death and, consequently, his death, but it wouldn't do her any good to think about it now.  
She exhaled. It was not as if she was happy to walk into a trap that ended with the extinction of her own life, but, for Hermione Granger, life worked in a very practical and rational way. Someone had to prevent Voldemort from continuing to kill people, which had not happened in more than twenty years of troops sent with this exact purpose, and if that was the only way, Miss Granger would not hesitate to do what was right. Besides, it was not like anyone was going to miss her.

-

Her eyes, wide open, watched the sky as she was carried. The temperature was no longer enough, and the girl was frustrated that she had not made the Lord quit his hiding place. She submerged, hoping it would keep her rational enough to come up with a plan to find him. She didn't feel hungry or thirsty. She felt nothing besides the urge to search for the first available male specimen and... seize it.  
When she emerged, opening her eyes after running her hands over her face, a house entered her field of vision.  
That could only be the Dark Lord's residence.  
It was much less Gothic and much more Victorian than anyone could have expected.  
She crawled out of the stream, feeling her legs tremble. She sucked in, anxious and fearful at the same time. If all went right, the relief was only ten feet away. With that thought, her hazy mind and tense limbs took her.  
The knuckles of her fingers tapped against the light wood of the door, and she leaned heavily against the eaves that surrounded the porch, the muscles of her tights contracted, rubbing against each other over and over again. A tight groan, particularly similar to a yelp, escaped her throat as that pair of ridiculously green eyes appeared after the door opened.  
"How can I help you?"  
Ow, damn it. His voice was serious and every time the air passed over his lips it was as if heat waves were enveloping her. She bit her lower lip, managing to ask a ridiculous question as her only intention involved that bit between his legs.  
"The ... Dark Lord?", she said in a trembling, panting voice. Her knees weakened and Hermione clutched the wood more tightly.  
"It's me, how can I help you?"  
The world collapsed and the girl went with it, falling on the floor.  
"I told you, you are not well," he insisted, kneeling beside her, not touching her.  
Now beside him, knowing that this was the man she sought, her whole body seemed to be on fire. She felt so hot, so deep into it that the urge to crawl out of her own skin made her suck in the air. Her fingers gripped the wet cloth over her tights desperately, pulling it all over. Her crotch was damp, and no matter how she pressed her hips against the ground, nothing seemed to ease the ache.  
"And...", she gasped, without being able to coordinate her vocal cords.  
"They put a terrible spell on you, didn't they?", he asked in a friendly tone that made her desperate.  
They should have put a spell on her, one that would keep any man from resisting. However, the boy in front of her did not seem particularly intent on grabbing her anytime soon. Her affliction was mounting. She rubbed her hips one more time, her desperation almost bordering on tears. She nodded, unable to respond.  
"Temptation, lust, desire... something like that?", he instigated her.  
Hermione continued to shake her head, his scent urging her to throw herself into his arms, demanding very dirty things from him.  
"I can make a potion. It should take a few days, but it would get rid of anything they did."  
At the mention of the days, her brown eyes jumped. No! She had... had to seduce him. That was the plan!  
Denying, she used her trembling, desperate fingers to pull him by the collar, bringing his mouth toward hers. His lips were not particularly soft or bulky. They were thin and there was a small piece of loose skin on the right corner, but that did not matter. He was surprised by the impact, his mouth opening softly into a small "o". Hermione didn't miss the opportunity to deepen the kiss.  
He felt the warmth of her soft tongue and let out a quick, short moan as one of her hands gripped the male hair and pulled his head back, leaning over him. The boy allowed the woman's tongue to wander through his mouth in surprise. Hermione did not know what woke him, but soon he returned the kiss with the same abandon.  
Something was growing between them, something warm, unsatisfied, and increasing in intensity. And she was choking on it. She pushed him to the floor, pressing her body against his muscles. The Lord was trying to murmur now, trying to pull away, but that was what she needed, what she came here for.  
His hands finally came to life, gently pushing her shoulders. He couldn't breathe. The man made a small sound, lost in the darkness of her mouth. Both Hermione's hands held his face now - harder. He moaned around her tongue things that were fragmented into her despair.  
Then his fingers tangled in the hair beneath her head and he finally pulled her away.  
They both gasped, blushing, and Hermione insisted on pressing their bodies together.  
"That's it? Is this what you need?", he stammered and she responded by touching his lips again.  
He smiled against her mouth as if he were a child and she was a pot of sweets. One of his arms circled her at the waist while the other was used as a support to rise.  
Hermione enveloped him with her limbs, clinging to him as the man carried her into the house, the door slamming past them. They didn't reach far beyond the first room, where he slowly fell to lay her on a rug. The girl moved, without even considering that it might be uncomfortable. She could think of nothing but the masculine lips on her throat. Oh, Merlin, she thought. He kissed her neck, going down. She stood up slowly, putting her hands on his back, wanting to feel more of him. The Lord laughed against her skin. Hermione shivered, using one hand to pull his shirt.  
"Hm?", the man murmured, still between kisses, approaching her breasts.  
The girl tugged at the fabric, wet because of her, more insistently.  
He pulled away and Hermione could see him smile. Slowly, he removed the light-colored shirt. She gasped, the heat burning her interior mercilessly. The breath caught in her throat at the sight of his pale, solid chest. Hermione watched the body in front of her, the contrast of the dark trousers with the marble skin, the line of the male hips that disappeared under the fabric to places she had never seen. She could see the hairs descending toward the male crotch and wished to kiss the path they formed.  
Her mind could not conceive anything beyond what they were about to do, her brain was just a pulsating mass that instigated her to do very, very bad things with him.  
Taking advantage of the distance between the bodies, she tugged at the wide blouse of raw material she wore before returning to kiss him with renewed ferocity. The Lord traced a low path, following her breasts. Having reached them, he stopped and the girl groaned in disappointment. He bit her skin just over her left breast and she moaned, feeling the moisture build up again. Then he bent, tracing the feminine side with his lips.  
"Oh, Merlin," she sobbed. No one had touched her that way, and the result went straight to her core.  
His lips moved up to her thumbs, and the only thing she could think was that he should be sucking her nipples. He sucked and nibbled on the skin of her stomach and the girl shuddered at the feel of his hair against her breasts.  
Hermione laced him with her legs and pulled him to her. The force and angle made her lie down again. She was about to pull his head to herself when his hands went up to her skirt. He gathered it around her waist and bit her a few inches from her swollen lips. Hermione tightened her legs around him, trying to control the scream that was gathering in her chest. He continued, kissing the line that separated her leg from her core, nibbling, and licking, making her tremble. Her fingers tightened on the soft fabric of the carpet, trying to keep the little control she still had.  
She was burning from the inside out and the Lord had not even touched her in the places she was about to beg him to explore.  
The girl felt slippery with her own juices, but even that did not seem enough to arouse the shame that must have been hidden and fogged in some part of her mind. The Lord bit down on the top of her right thigh and the female legs parted. The brown eyes opened by the surprise pleasure that came with the pain. She looked down and saw the impossibly green orbs watching her intently. Hermione had no idea what he was seeing, but the look he wore made her inside tighten in anticipation.  
He grunted deep in his throat, moving closer to her center as if to take her in his mouth, his eyes didn't leave the brown ones. Hermione dropped her head, not daring to watch him while he was wearing that mask of hunger.  
She was on the edge, her mind begging him to touch her, to end the agony. The air the man exuded tickled her tight and she moaned. Then, suddenly, a small, fresh gust was blown over her sensitive, moist, inflamed skin, and all her thoughts were gone.  
His hands found the dark strands of her - soft between his fingers - and she pulled him toward her mouth. When she had him in the place she wanted - wedged between her lips - she ran her palms across his chest, finally outlining it. It was suffocating and addictive, but the only thing Hermione could do was run a path of kisses and licks from his neck to his chest.  
She heard him moan softly and his rough fingers stopped the work of her hands, holding her by the fists.  
"No, no. If we want to do what I have in mind, this is not helping."  
"Please," she gasped at his chest, cool against her flushed cheek. Merlin, what was wrong with her?  
"'Please'"?  
"Please touch me."  
It was a shock to both of them how coordinated her speech had been. The emerald eyes narrowed and he lay flat on her, kissing her deeply. However, it wasn't enough - she wanted more. The feminine hips bumped against him, her fingernails clawing at the robust back.  
The Lord took control of her hands again, holding them against the ground and over their heads.  
"We have to control ourselves."  
Hermione wanted to think what he meant by this, but her thoughts were much more carnal and far less philosophical at the moment. She struggled a little, wanting to free herself, but her fight was futile when, unintentionally, her tight hit the volume inside his pants. He was hard against her, separated only by the thin fabric. That made her push herself more against him. The Lord pushed her hips down with his own, pinning her to the floor. Hermione arched her spine and groaned, feeling the effects of the whole walk on her tired and aching muscles.  
She wanted more of him.  
Finally, male lips made their way to her breasts, taking a stiff nipple in her mouth. The girl moaned. He moved to the other dark-skinned peak and kissed it, rolling it with his tongue. If Hermione had found her thoughts messy and tangled before, the feel of his hot, wet mouth against her was enough to make her think she was crazy.  
Gradually his hands released her, making the way over her body, getting rid of the skirt that was still wrapped, wet, around her waist. Her legs were pulled back and Hermione was breathing rapidly, not knowing whether it was anticipation or nervousness.  
He slid a finger between her folds and, suddenly, she felt no more fear, just need. He circled her clit, teasing her, and she could not bear it, begging him to continue. The Lord pushed his finger inside her wet entrance, and Hermione screamed. The pleasure was indescribable. He watched her as the girl arched her back - completely in control. He needed to make her reach the climax with only his fingers, even if he wanted to sink into her. He would explore her, take care of everything, and solve the little problem the girl had with spells.  
He was pumping her with his fingers, slippery with her juices. The Lord could feel how close she was. Looking at her almond eyes, he couldn't feel anything evil coming from her. There had to be an explanation for the whole situation, he just had to find it. With that in mind, he refined his movements, sliding a second finger into the channel. She was so tight she barely let the fingers in and the men could feel her twitching around him.  
Hermione gasped as he slipped in and out. She had never imagined feeling anything like it. It was a blessing. She did not know if there was any sense that could equate the pleasure she felt at the moment as if every nerve ending in her body was on fire. Then she felt him slipping the second finger and hissed from the pain. She could feel his pressure straining and filling her. He pumped faster, deeper, while she gasped in pain. But there was something erotic about it. The more he retracted and reentered her, the more pleasure he accumulated.  
"Mh, oh,", she groaned incoherently.  
Then the Lord stopped, his fingers still deep inside her. His thumb worked her swollen clit and her mind saw nothing but color, her eyes closed as she moved her hips. He pushed her back, tapping his finger against the buildup of nerves, and suddenly the orgasm was there. Everything seemed to explode and she was screaming, her hips moving uncontrollably, but he did not stop. As the climax struck her, he drew his fingers from her, slippery, and circled her clit. The female body exploded in a new wave of pleasure.  
"God, oooooooh, oh, god".  
The female hands were out of control, one clawed at his back, another gripped the rug. The Lord continued to work on her clit and it was almost too much pleasure. He entered the convulsive center again, harder, and she no longer knew what was up and what was down. The movements continued and Hermione did not know whether to keep her legs apart or close them with the almost asphyxiating pleasure. The fingers came in one last time, hitting the right spot, making her arch with pleasure before releasing her as the Lord swallowed her moans with a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Anthia told me to talk a little about my thoughts and I’m taking her advice :)  
> This was supposed to be a one-shot. But it’s quite common for my characters to just… run away and it takes some time for me to get them under control again.  
> At the same time, when you are not secure about writing in another language, you kind just… want to make it shorter, I guess? To force myself, I wrote first in Portuguese and then translated. But when a read it… it doesn’t sound… fluid.   
> Guess I gotta a lot to work on.  
> At first, this chapter was supposed to explain everything. I don’t think Hermione would just jump with wide arms open. But at the same time, the spell makes it hard for her to think clearly and easier for her to be open to him.  
> Well, hope you enjoy :)

Her fingers felt heavy and her skin was warm. With effort, she moved her right arm to the left side, trying to turn around. Her throat worked trying to swallow, but there was not enough saliva. The fabric beneath her buttocks was soft and warm. It seemed so inviting. Her eyelids struggled to lift.  
“Are you awake?”  
What had happened came running like a set of flashes in sequence. The heat, the sweat, the bodies glued together.  
She buried her face against the rug with a grunt.  
“We... Did we... did we?”, the question was stupid but necessary. If they had not, hm, copulated, the spell they had placed on her would be useless.  
"Not in the way you're thinking."  
He moved to stand directly in front of her, sitting down on the couch. Hermione watched his fingers hide beneath the dark fabric of his pants. She felt defeated. If she could think clearly, that meant the spell was no longer working, right? It meant that the only active spell was the one that made the little feet of her life span run faster.  
She exhaled, unable to deal with the man she was supposed to be killing.  
"I thought we could talk now."  
Her forehead pressed against the rug as she thought. There was not much to lose now, was there? She couldn't bring herself to seduce someone without the spell. She was going to die anyway.   
With all her remaining dignity, she bent her right leg to rise. Only the lack of restriction of the fabric that would usually annoy her made her remember that she was naked. Her movements froze, only her eyeballs moved, trying to locate the piece of unhappy cloth. Right beside him lay her skirt - kneaded and damp. She sat up as one hand pulled the sides of her shirt to close it and the other palmed the floor. Her attempt only ended so quickly because the boy understood her actions and reached for her skirt before anything else, handing it to her.  
Hermione's already warm cheeks seemed to catch fire as the embarrassment of the situation escalated progressively with the difficulty of putting on a wet skirt.  
The Dark Lord stared at the window calmly, as if there was no half-naked girl struggling on his living room rug.  
"Ready to talk?"  
Her frown was an indication that no, she was not ready to talk, but there was no other choice.  
She sat in the armchair perpendicular to him, ignoring the dampness of her clothes.  
"You want to start by telling me how you came here?", his tone was gentle and made her body contract.  
“No”.  
There was a small moment of silence before he spoke again:  
"I'll try to guess, and you may correct me, alright?"  
She breathed in, staring at the window.  
"At age eleven - maybe twelve - your house was attacked by the Dark Lord. You were raised by a set of special people, with magical powers, from the village. They have been protecting the village for many years. Very traditional families that dedicate exclusively to this duty.”  
Without anything to argue, Hermione remained silent.  
"There are a few living like you, all with similar stories. The Dark Lord has a very specific taste. He has put a curse on you all, but the elders have a ritual that reduces the effect. You work for the families of the elders, and in return, once a week they give you a potion and take away the 'spoiled blood'.”  
Her scrutiny went from the dark of the trees to the vivid green of his eyes.  
"You didn't live in our village. Does news travel so far?”  
He looked at her intently. She leaned back against the couch.  
"No, but the story is the same in several of the villages that surround the forest. Even mine. But I won't get into details, it'll prolong this conversation and we have only a short time before the spell is back in effect.”  
"You mean... the spell is still in place?", she interrupted, her body jumping forward, her eyelids high.  
"Yes, I could not get it out alone, I'd need help or a potion. But it takes a few days to get the potion ready.”  
"So what is it? Why don't I feel the effects?”  
“Desire reduces after an injection of pleasure. It will return progressively.”  
"But I could keep up with shots of pleasure until the potion's ready, right?"  
The Lord looked into her eyes for a moment before denying.  
“For a day, perhaps; every time the spell will come stronger. It's more probable for you to go crazy before I finish the potion than not. Anyway, we would still have the other two spells to deal with.”  
Hermione pursed her lips. Was he supposed to know all this?  
“Can't you slow down their action?”  
If he knew of their plan there was nothing else to be done.  
"I could postpone death for a maximum of two hours."  
Her outraged curls swayed as she stood up.  
“Where are you going?”, his response was quick and a little breathless as he stood up with her.  
"You're telling me there's nothing to do. I intend to go to the forest and hope that some animal will kill me or that the spell will take effect and soon I will go crazy. Thank you for your attention.”  
The speech would have had more effect if her skirt had not stopped her hurried steps toward the door and if the Lord had not been faster than herself and had held her by her arm, making her body turn like a door, banging against the back of the couch, facing him. The warmth of his hand vibrated, piling up before exploding, running up her arm. She pulled away as if she had been burned.  
“Shit!”, he cursed, pulling his arm away. "Sorry, I think we'll have less time now. I didn't say there's nothing to do, I just said the things I can’t do.”  
Her fingers tightened on the sofa as her knees came together. The Lord watched her wide-eyed, not knowing what to do.  
"I don't have the strength alone, but maybe you could help me."  
She nodded, keeping the focus on his voice.  
"They have chosen you for a reason, you have a dense magical core. I've only seen such a nucleus once in all my life.”  
Her confused face was the reason he tried explaining again.  
"I do not have time to explain the whole story. What I can say is that I feel the magic coming from you, if your story is like mine, as soon as you stop with the potions of the elders and the bloodletting, your powers will explode. Here” - his hand turned to scrape her belly button - “I can feel your strength pulsing. It feels like it will come out soon.”  
She could also feel something pulsating inside her, in the same rhythm as his warmth pulsed for her, at the trot of his heartbeat.  
"I propose that we use this force of yours to potentiate their binding spell, letting compulsion follow its course. Only the death spell will be left for us to resolve. Alone, I can’t dissipate it, but with a strong connection to another magical core, especially one so dense, I can get it out of you and divert it back.”  
His removal made her realize that the heat she felt was no longer the male fingerprints, but something generated within herself. Her nipples brushed gently against her shirt, her thighs tightened and made wet little noises between her legs.  
"I can add some things to their bonding spell, make it stronger. We could get rid of this situation with neither being dead.”  
Her knuckles went white from holding the fabric. Her brown orbs fixed on his lips, trying to understand something in his words beyond the seductive breath that asked her to kiss him.  
"But it doesn't matter if the death spell is gone, because the binding spell would tie our lives-”  
"Yes." He looked her straight in the eyes as he answered. Her hesitation kept him going. "It would only mean that we would live together and that I could teach you everything that was hidden from you about magic", he went closer. "We do not have to be anything but housemates”, he added as an afterthought.  
Throughout the speech, Hermione had made a point of keeping her concentration on his face, trying to understand his motives despite the blurred feeling that started in the corners of her mind, looking for the possibility that he was trying to use her as the elders had done. His expression was too open and confused.  
"What is your intention?".  
His eyes faltered before focusing on her again.  
"I...", he swallowed, "I don't want to be alone here ..."  
“Other villages?”.  
"All under influence of the elders, they would know who I am and would not let me live there. I’ve tried”.  
Her body leaned forward as the girl pressed her hips against the back of the sofa.  
"I really wanted you to make that decision with your head free from the spell."  
She gasped against the sofa, sliding to a sitting position against it.  
The Lord came around the furniture and picked her up, laying her on the couch.  
"I'll give you an injection of pleasure. As soon as you wake up, I want you to think of the answer to my prop--.”  
His sentence was not finished, because in seconds Hermione had gathered strength to pull him by the neck and to sink her lips to his. The Lord was more straightforward and quicker this time, sliding two fingers between her legs, steadily entering her. Her hips rose, slamming the top of her mount of Venus against the base of his palm. The boy held her, finger-tapping inside her, against a rougher chunk, making her muscles vibrate with pleasure. With little resistance, he made her lower her hips and then pulled her to him, back towards the floor. Then he bent himself over her to place his mouth against her heated center.  
Small needles of pleasure penetrated her flesh, and Hermione let out a grunt as her arms flapped behind seeking something that could hold her, pin her to the ground. The fingers of her right hand palpated and finally landed on his thigh, where Hermione dug her fingernails and decorated it with little half-moons.  
Only then did she realize that her eyelids had dropped. She lifted them with regret, calculating how she would get his mouth back against hers, not quite sure if she wanted him to stop what he was doing. But she needed something pressed against her lips or she would burst into screaming.  
The instinct to bite him was stronger than the confusion or the shyness, and soon Hermione pulled his trousers down.   
"Can you put it inside your mouth?", he took his member with one hand, offering it to her. Hermione didn't hesitate.  
She felt him withdraw from her to breathe in grimly. The male forehead rested on her right thigh, sweat pouring down from his skin to mingle with her juices.  
“I need …”, he inspired a few times before trying again, “Every time something feels really good, I need you to you enjoy it. Then when it is almost time to explode, stop a little and start again, okay?”  
She wanted to say no, that she intended to give herself up the first time the pleasure that began to form in her crotch rose. She managed to shake her head weakly, tapping his tip against the inside of her cheeks and making him gasp.  
“It's to make the connection stronger.”  
The growl she let go was long and trembled against the thin skin of his glans. The male fingers kept a stable back and forth, but his tongue could not, pausing at times. Each time his warm breath approached, Hermione anticipated the contact by pushing her hips against his square jaw. The toes of her feet were ballet tips while she tried to coordinate them with the rough tongue movements that surrounded her swollen lips. His hand gripped her hair and his hips bucked against her face, his tip slammed against the back of Hermione's throat and the girl found herself trying to swallow, unable to breath, the breathlessness obscured her vision, the tips of her fingers became numb, her whole body vibrated - his moans, the strength of his hand. She pushed that little piece of her body that felt more pleasure against his tongue, so, but so close.  
His hips jumped and he let go, settling again to suck her with more vigor. The reestablishment of the air made her limbs flare and her vision return to normal.  
Hermione was not sure how long she'd been like this, with him taking her to the edge of the cliff without actually letting her fall. She counted four times that she became almost out of breath - she waited anxiously for these moments. She tried to keep her eyes focused on some point, to control her vision at least, but her eyes kept turning back with noises of pleasure she did not know whether came from her or from him. She felt the pleasure pulsing and exhaling through her pores, the side of her body warming as they brushed against the floor - sweat running in small crooked lines through the curves of the bare bodies, piling up in the skin folds, tempering her lips with a salty taste of pleasure.  
Her two hands held his thighs, bringing him inside her with desire. The tip of her tongue beat against the thin skin just below his glans, running straight toward the base. His fingerprints curved into the fluffy flesh and his lips made a pulsing circle that vibrated against her clit. His other hand gripped the back of her neck as he settled his tip against her throat and hoped she would begin to swallow. The tingling sensation took her feet and hands, the edges of her vision darkened, her mouth slowly opening into a smile before closing so she could suck him again. The set of shocks that his fingers sent with the waves of pleasure that his lips distributed met the sensation on her limbs. Unlike the other times, the Lord did not turn away from her. Her mind began to spin, instinctively she jerked her head away from his hips. The firm male hand held her. The arches of her feet trembled, stretching the female body like a long, tense stick, her thighs holding the long fingers inside her. Whatever was inside her burst through her navel, her mind whirled around, fading away with the tingling of his fingers, replaced by a contented weight that swept over her, pulling her to sleep.


End file.
